If you grew up in church, or watched Larry's Wonderful World of Autotainment, you have heard this song:
Zaccheus was a wee little man, and a wee little man was he
He climbed up in a sycamore tree for the Lord he wanted to see
And as the Savior passed that way He looked up in the tree
And He said, "Zacchaeus, you come down! For I'm coming to your house for tea...Yes I'm coming to your house for tea."
(Thanks to my mom, in our Sunday School we learned the British version; "for tea" rhymes with "tree" and fits better than "today.")
Until this morning, I never really thought much about Zacchaeus. Growing up, I thought it was funny to hear a story about an adult climbing up a tree so that he could see. Today, reading in Luke 19, I started thinking about him more. What was his story? What was he thinking? What was he feeling?
In our Monday night community group a couple of weeks ago we talked about thirsting for God. Jeremiah 29:12 says:
You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart.
Scott shared a story he'd heard about a young man and his mentor who were discussing the beatitude, "blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness." The young man wanted to know what it was to really thirst for God. They happened to be walking by a lake while they talked, and the older man suggested they stop and get a drink. The young man bent over the water and reached out his hand, when suddenly his mentor grabbed him by the head and thrust his face under the water. The young man struggled but the older man was stronger. The young man thrashed wildly, his eyes bulging, his lungs bursting, strength draining from his limbs, until he felt he must give up and take a breath, even if it meant breathing in the water. The mentor suddenly let go and the young man sprang to his feet, dripping with water and scowling with indignation. "What on earth was that for?!" he demanded. The mentor smiled. "You were thirsting for air like we should thirst for God; not a little discomfort, but the urgent, pressing need for God and the knowledge that we will die if the thirst is not quenched."
Zacchaeus must have been thirsting that way.
This is a bit of what I imagined:
A boy growing up smaller than everyone else, getting picked on by everyone, learning to get even through his cunning rather than brute strength. Short man syndrome? Maybe. But surely people would respect him once he had money. But how to get it? The best way to get protection and wealth was to align himself with the Roman government as a tax collector. Under the Roman standard he grew rich, but at the same time alienated himself from his own people. Instead of elevating him to a position of honor, his wealth was only evidence that he was the lowest kind of traitor, in league with the occupying forces and adding to the tax burden of his countrymen. He lived in a sort of no-man's-land; to the Romans he was only a Jewish dog, their tool and vassal. To the Jews he was a symbol of the corruption and oppression of the invaders. He had placed his hope in wealth and found it a cold comfort.
He remembered his days learning the Torah and hearing of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Israel. He recalled his pride in being one of the chosen people of God. But had God also rejected him? It was no good going to the synagogue; he had tried. On the occasions when he had not been asked to leave, the stony stares of the congregants had been enough to send him on his way.
Just as he began to despair, he heard stories of a new rabbi. One who did not dress in fine clothes and keep himself aloof from the common people. A rabbi who blasted the scribes and Pharisees for their hypocrisy while he welcomed little children into his arms. A rabbi who did not preach dry messages but told stories, wonderful stories, about God and the Kingdom of Heaven: a father who welcomed home his wayward son; beggars and cripples who were invited to a king's wedding feast; a Samaritan (even a Samaritan!) who was the hero of a story as he became the rescuing neighbor to a poor, beaten traveler. And this same rabbi, this Yeshua, had power from God to show that he was a prophet. He had even raised the dead! But what brought hope to the poor, rich tax collector was that the rabbi had reached out to the outsiders: he had healed a Samaritan leper and cured a centurion's servant. One of his close followers had even been a tax collector if the reports could be believed. Would the rabbi have a word from God for a wayward son of Israel? But Zacchaeus could not leave his post in Jericho.
The Passover pilgrims began to stream through Jericho on their way to Jerusalem; at first a trickle, then a steady flow, then suddenly the streets were flooded with Jews who had to stop in the city to stay the night or replenish their supplies. The throngs packed the streets and it was impossible to move without being jostled and shoved by dusty, travel-worn strangers or their animals. It was a particularly bad time to be Zacchaeus; his short stature was always a nuisance, but now it became dangerous.
In his home one day Zacchaeus stared at the food on his table and sighed. He hated eating alone, with the servants in the kitchen whispering behind his back. But who would come eat with a tax collector? It could hardly be worse if he was one of the lepers outside the city gates; at least they had other lepers to share their lives. He picked up a loaf of bread to break off a portion, then stopped and stared at it a moment. In sudden frustration he threw it against the wall. He laid his head in his arms and closed his eyes, trying to keep back the tears that he knew would cause the servants to gossip.
"Yes, he's coming down the road right now," came a faint whisper from the kitchen. "He's headed to Jerusalem just like all the rest and he's going to pass right through our city!"
"Are you sure? When did you hear he was coming?"
"I just got back from the market and I heard from a merchant whose caravan passed the rabbi on the way here. He said that the rabbi had healed a blind beggar right there on the road!"
Zacchaeus sat up suddenly. The whispers continued, but they didn't matter. He had heard the important information: a rabbi, a healing rabbi, was coming to Jericho. It must be Yeshua! Who else could it be? He stood quickly, almost knocking over the table in his excitement. He would see Yeshua. He had to.
He left the house without the fine cloak he usually wore and made his way through the busy streets to the main road that wound its way through the city. It was painfully slow going and every moment that passed made him wonder if the rabbi had already passed through Jericho and gone on his way. Zacchaeus shoved his way through the crowds of strangers, thankful that they, at least, did not know that he was forsaken and outcast from the fellowship of his people.
At last, he reached the road. There was a hum of excitement that exceeded the usual hubbub of the market. He heard snatches of conversation all around him. "Yes, he healed the fellow, you know, Bartimaeus, that used to always sit by the road..." "He's coming, all right, my sister's husband's aunt says she heard it this morning.." "I wonder which of the leaders of the synagogue he will visit! What an honor to have the rabbi..." The road was packed more tightly than any of the side streets had been. Besides the out-of-town strangers, the whole city had turned out to see the famous teacher.
Zacchaeus felt dismay creeping in. Among so many, how could he ever find the rabbi? He could only see up to the shoulders and heads of the people in the crowd around him. He started to push his way through, but met with so much resistance he made little headway. He made a little better progress by angling his approach instead of pushing straight toward to road, but he was still a long way from being able to see. Suddenly there went up a great shout. Yeshua had entered the city! He was coming down the road right now, and somehow the throng was making way for him.
Zacchaeus felt his heart pound in his ribs, his stomach, his temples. The rabbi was coming! The tax collector could not explain it, but he felt with every fiber of his being that he must see the rabbi today. But the more he tried to push through, the more the crowd pushed back. Instead of moving forward, he was moving backwards, more and still more, until he struck something hard. He turned and saw it was the huge, ancient sycamore tree that had always dominated the square, reaching its leafy branches almost to the buildings across the road. Across the road! He could climb the tree and see Yeshua that way!
But he couldn't possibly climb the tree. Not in public. His enemies, which comprised most of the city, would never let him forget it. Smiles of ridicule would spread across their faces as they gossiped about the cruel tax collector who made a fool of himself by climbing the tree in the main square.
The shout of welcome was getting closer, showing that the rabbi and his followers would soon be passing underneath the tree's spreading branches. Zacchaeus just couldn't climb the tree. But... he couldn't bear to miss the rabbi's coming either.
In a flash, he made up his mind. He reached for the broad, gnarled trunk.
It was surprisingly easy to make his way up the tree. He had found a good vantage point and could see the throng as it roiled below him. He could also see the procession coming down the road. He assumed that the one in the front was the rabbi. What if the prophet did have a word for Zacchaeus, but it was of condemnation? What if his gaze held only fire and judgment for the one who had cheated his fellow Jews out of a fortune? Or what if the rabbi saw him but only pointed at him and laughed at the short little man in the tree?
The rabbi and his disciples continued on the road. Suddenly they stopped, so close that Zacchaeus could have dropped a leaf and hit any one of them. The rabbi looked up. Zacchaeus knew immediately that he had been found. Not just seen, but found. Instead of looking past him, or through him, the rabbi looked right at him and smiled, lighting up his dark eyes. "Zacchaeus, hurry and come down, for I must stay at your house today."
Later on, Zacchaeus could never remember how he got down from that tree. He didn't remember the long walk back to his home, or how much the feast he prepared had cost. He did remember the promise he made that day to give away half of his wealth and restore all of the money that was his because of fraud.
But what he remembered most was talking with the Master. The love that shone from his eyes. The gentleness in his voice. The assurance that God did still want him, and had chosen him as one of his own.
"Today salvation has come to this house, since he also is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost."
Zacchaeus was thirsty for God. He was willing to give up his dignity, his reputation, even all his fortune to quench his thirst. The promise remains for us, too.
You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.
